Burnt Toast and Weak Coffee
by DaniiButNotBeck
Summary: Life in the Cabot-Benson household is anything but uneventful, especially with three kids running around. This is a series of one-shots that are connected, but could stand alone. Slightly AU. Pre-established AO
1. Mother's Day

Title: Burnt Toast and Weak Coffee

Pairing: Alex Cabot/Olivia Benson

Rating: K+

Author's Note: As you all know, these characters aren't mine. They belong to Dick Wolf and NBC.

Author's Note 2: This story is a collection of stories that are all connected, but could stand alone. It is slightly AU in when and how Olivia becomes Calvin's guardian.

Author's Note 3: This chapter takes place on Mother's Day 2007.

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* * *

For the first time since their twins were born, Olivia wakes up to the smell of fresh coffee and burnt toast. Smiling to herself, she pushes away the blankets and clambers out of bed and walks out of the bedroom.

To get to the kitchen, she first passes by Calvin's room and then by the nursery. Calvin's room is dark – nothing unusual about that – but his bed is empty, which is strange for 8:30 on a Sunday morning. The nursery, however, is a stark contrast to Calvin's room. The room is bright with sunlight pouring in through open curtains and the walls are a pale yellow with light blue borders on the top and bottom ("It's gender neutral," Alex had said), whereas Calvin's walls are a darker blue and mostly covered in chalkboard paint.

Olivia peeks into the nurdery and spots Alex sitting in the old leather chair in the corner. Henry is curled up on her chest, one little fist tangled tightly in Alex's hair, while his other fist tightly grips the front of her t-shirt. Lizzie, on the other hand, is sleeping soundly in her crib. Olivia smiles to herself and continues on with her journey.

In the kitchen, Olivia stands in the doorway and watches Calvin flutter about, alternating between making toast and keeping the scrambled eggs from burning. His ability to make food as well as he does at eight years old is equal parts endearing and heartbreaking.

"Alex – no, Mom – said it was okay," Calvin says, keeping his back turned to her.

"It is," Olivia responds. "But you don't have to."

"I want to," he says quickly. "I want to because it's Mother's day and you and Alex – Mom – rescued me." He turns around, eyes brimming with fresh tears, and looks at her. "You rescued me and I love you."

Olivia feels tears well-up in her eyes and as much as she wants to walk across the kitchen and hug him, she doesn't, knowing he has to come to her first.

And he does.

Calvin crosses the room as quick as he can without running and wraps his arms around Olivia's stomach, burying his face in the front of her shirt. "You saved me," he says again, his voice slightly muffled. "I love you."

A few tears finally break loose from Olivia's eyes and make a path down her cheeks. _You saved me too. _"I love you too, Calvin," she says. "I love you too."

* * *

.


	2. Rescue

Title: Rescue: August 14, 2006

Author's Note: These characters aren't mine. They belong to Dick Wolf and NBC.

Author's Note 2: I used a quote from Pretty Little Liars in here. I don't own it.

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE

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* * *

"Okay," Olivia says, leaning back in her chair and pointing at the white board with her pen. "We know he got on the school bus" – she points to the first black and white photo of an eight year old boy – "and we know he got off the bus as his usual stop" – she points to the second photo, which is more grainy and it is harder to see the boy's face, but it is definitely the same boy – "but where did he go after that?"

Elliot walks over to the board and taps on the third picture. "Home?"

Olivia stands up and walks up to the board. "Where he would've seen his parents." She points to the fourth picture: a particularly gruesome photo of the boy's dead parents, murdered and mutilated almost beyond recognition. "And he would've run."

"Unless he did it," Elliot offers with a shrug.

Olivia looks at him like he's suddenly grown an extra head. "Are you f– Are you joking, Elliot? Was that your sad attempt at a joke? Vivian was tied up, for God's sake! And his father…God, Elliot, no. No eight-year-old has the strength or the rage it would take to do this."

The opening of Captain Cragen's door halts any argument Elliot is going to make. "Where are we on finding Calvin Arliss?"

Olivia sighs. "No closer than we were the last time you checked."

"Let's go; I need him found yesterday."

Just then, Fin comes into the squadroom holding a sheet of paper. "We have a sighting."

"What?" Olivia asks, reaching for the paper that Fin holds just out of her reach. "Where?"

"Midtown," Fin says. "Lady says she saw him with a guy of about twenty, only noticed the boy because he had blood on his shirt."

Finally grabbing the paper out of Fin's hand, Olivia snatches the car keys off of Elliot's desk and bolts out of the squadroom to the elevator.

Elliot catches up with her as the elevator doors are sliding closed. "Where are we going?"

"The corner of 7th Ave and West 49th."

…

* * *

…

They hear the fighting before they get to the apartment. Elliot looks at Olivia and nods once, silently telling her to fall into step behind him. Olivia rolls her eyes, but follows his lead anyway. They know this routine; they've done it a thousand times.

Guns drawn, they silently make their way down the hall. Elliot stops at the left side of the door, Olivia stops at the right.

Standing at the door, they can now clearly hear what the voices are saying.

"Brad," a woman's voice says, "please. Please."

"No," a man – Brad, presumably – says.

"You can walk away right now, Brad," she says, clearly trying to keep the panic out of her voice, but failing miserably. "You can walk away."

There is a loud thump, like someone's head hitting a wall, and then Elliot's fist is pounding on the door. "Lila Martin," he says. "Lila Martin, this is the police." He waits for an answer. There isn't one. "Miss Martin, open the door."

There is a clattering just beyond the door and Lila says, "Just a minute. Just…just a minute."

"Miss Martin," Olivia says, "I'm going to need you to open the door."

When Lila opens the door, it is just enough so she can see into the hallway. By the bright lights of the hall, Olivia can see a bruise forming around Lila's eye and the blood on her chin from her split lip.

Olivia casts a sideways glance at Elliot and he takes a step back, knowing his brash and abrasive approach is unnecessary in this situation. "Miss Martin, I'm Detective Benson and this is my partner, Detective Stabler. May we come in?"

Lila looks backwards into the apartment. "Now isn't a good time."

"Miss, Martin, please. Time really is of the essence."

Lila steals one more glance behind her. "Yes. Okay. Just hold on."

She closes the door and Olivia turns to Elliot and says, "She's telling him to run." Elliot nods and bolts down the hallway.

Lila comes back after a minutes and opens the door. "Come in." She steps aside as Olivia enters the apartment. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"No," Olivia says, looking around the small apartment, "thank you."

When they reach the kitchen, Olivia is surprised to see a trail of blood leading to the bathroom. "Miss Martin, are you injured?"

Lila looks at her like a deer caught in the headlights. "What?" She follows Olivia's gaze to the ground and sees the blood. "Oh. No. No, I get nosebleeds."

Olivia isn't buying it. "Are you alone?" she asks, walking toward the bathroom.

"Yes," Lila says, quickly blocking Olivia's path. "Yes, of course."

"How did you get the black eye?"

"I fell."

Olivia looks at her doubtfully. "You fell?"

"Yes" – Lila nods – "into a doorknob."

"And the split lip?"

"Work. I'm a nanny."

Olivia places her hand on Lila's shoulder. "If he hit you and you reacted, it was self-defense, Lila."

Lila shrugs Olivia's hand off her shoulder. "I think it's time for you to go, Detective."

"I just need to as you a couple questions."

Lila's eyes are pleading. "Detective, please."

"Please, Miss Martin. The information you provide me with could lead to a little boy being found."

Lila shakes her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"This little boy" – Olivia takes a wallet-sized picture out of her pocket, but she doesn't look at it, and shows it to Lila – "is probably cold and scared and alone. He could be dying. Please, Miss Martin."

"He could be dead," Lila says to herself, her caring blue eyes flashing to cold and gray. "He could already be dead, Detective Benson."

Olivia takes a few steps away from the woman in front of her. "What are you talking about, Lila?"

Lila advances on Olivia. "You sealed his fate by coming here today."

Several things happen over the next few seconds that Olivia will reflect on later when she has a few moments and she will realize she should have been expecting it.

Somehow having gotten ahold of a knife, Lila lunges at Olivia, pinning the detective against the fridge, the knife dangerously close to Olivia's throat. Olivia doesn't fight back, doesn't move a muscle; she knows one wrong move could end her life.

"You don't want to do this, Lila," Olivia says through gritted teeth.

Lila is seething; Olivia can feel the anger radiating off of her. "You naïve, little detective," she says, her tone dripping in resentment and utter hatred. "You think you know everything because you walk around with that gold badge and that swagger, but you don't, Olivia Benson. You don't!" In her anger, Lila presses the knife hard against Olivia's throat, the tip drawing blood.

Olivia looks at Lila, trying not to show fear, but feeling the steady drip of blood from her neck trickle down to the collar of her t-shirt. "Tell me, Lila. Tell me what I did, what you want me to do. You're in control here."

"Do you know how thin the skin on your neck is, Olivia?" Lila asks, and although her tone is inquisitive, Olivia feels threatened by the question.

"No," Olivia says, trying not to panic.

"No? Well, let me put it to you this way: if I flinch, you'll die."

Olivia rolls her eyes. "Do it," she says, careful not to move too much. If she's right, which she usually is, Lila is looking for someone to play her game, not just surrender.

And right she is.

Lila removes the knife from Olivia's throat and presses the towel from the fridge against the bleeding wound. "You figured me out?"

"No," Olivia says, even though it is a lie. "I only cared about the boy." That's true. "What you do to me is of little importance." Mostly true.

This slightly stuns Lila; she had heard of the detective's courage and selflessness – hell, she had witnessed Olivia's bravery firsthand – but never thought there was an actual disregard for her own well-being.

Olivia watches Lila's eyes flash through a series of emotions – anger, pit, joy, resentment – before saying, "My wife was murdered three years ago, gunned down while we were on our way home. I watched the life drain out of her eyes as she bled to death on the sidewalk." Olivia pauses, blinking back tears. "So go ahead – kill me." She closes her eyes, letting her head fall back against the fridge. "Go ahead."

Lila laughs – it's a bark of a laugh, really. "You expect me to believe that?"

Olivia shrugs, still eyeing the knife in Lila's hand warily. "It's the truth."

In a move Olivia has been anticipating, Lila thrusts the knife forward, very nearly catching Olivia's hip. Olivia throws herself sideways, her right shoulder taking the brunt of the impact with the floor. She rolls on to her back, drawing her gun as she goes.

"Drop your weapon," Olivia says, aiming her gun at Lila's right shoulder. "Drop it now!"

Lila freezes, her knife high, her smile vicious. "You're going to kill me?"

"Only if I have to."

"You'll never find him."

"My partner has your accomplice in custody."

Lila's smile falters fractionally, but she plasters it back on, letting it look a bit more menacing, almost daring Olivia to think she is losing control. "No matter," she says, making a gesture with her left hand like she is brushing the problem away. "He was useless to me anyway." She says this airily, but Olivia can see through her faux confidence easily.

"What's he going to tell us, Lila?" Olivia asks tauntingly. "Is he going to tell us where Calvin is?" Olivia tilts her head, taking in the slowly disheveling woman in front of her. "Or is he going to tell us about the murders of Vivian and Michael Arliss?" Olivia smiles like she has it all figured out, like the situation is completely under her control when, in fact, she knows that it isn't. "I know," she says, "you're afraid he's going to tell us _why_ you kidnapped Calvin."

That does the trick.

Lila snaps, finally losing all of her control, and lunges at Olivia for a second time. Olivia, however, has been expecting this, and manages to get a shot off that embeds itself in Lila's right shoulder, but not before Lila's knife connects with Olivia's left bicep.

Olivia ignores the pain and the blood dripping from her arm and cuffs Lila, who is clutching her shoulder and screaming curses at Olivia. "Lila Martin, you are under arrest…"

…

* * *

…

"She's not talking," Olivia says, exiting Lila's room at Bellevue.

"You expect her to?" Elliot asks, still holding an ice pack to the rather large bruise on his jaw. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Olivia wince while adjusting her shirt sleeve. "How's your arm?"

"Hurts."

Elliot sighs. "Listen, Liv…"

"Save it, Elliot."

"I heard everything you said to Lila."

"You don't want to do this, Elliot," Olivia says menacingly.

Elliot continues, unperturbed by Olivia's anger and threats. "Alex wouldn't want you getting yourself killed."

Olivia stops in her tracks and glares at her partner, barely resisting the urge to give him a matching bruise on the other side of his jaw. "Don't you dare, Elliot Stabler. Don't you dare. You don't know what Alex would want. Hell, I was married to the woman and I don't even know what she would want." Olivia shakes her head and chuckles self-deprecatingly. "I don't even know what she would want."

Elliot, sensing the risk of harm to his person is gone, rests his hand on Olivia's shoulder. "She'll come back, Liv." He pauses for a second before adding, "Hopefully."

Olivia sighs. "See, that's the thing about hope, Elliot: It breeds eternal misery."

Elliot mulls this over for a few seconds and then claps Olivia's shoulder. "Thanks, Liv. You sure know how to brighten the mood." He smiles, letting Olivia know he's joking. "Now, let's get out of here; we have an interrogation to do."

…

* * *

…

"Brad Martin," Elliot says, tapping on the interrogation room window.

"Brother?" Olivia questions, staring at Brad's face, looking for a resemblance to Lila.

Elliot nods. "And he's willing to talk."

"In exchange for what?"

"Immunity."

ADA Casey Novak chooses that moment to walk up to the detectives. "Tell me about this guy."

"Brad Martin," Olivia says, "twenty-five, brother of Lila Martin, who I shot today."

"IAB already cleared her," Elliot says, noticing the mix of amusement and confusion on Casey's face.

Casey nods. "What's he want immunity from?"

"Assaulting a police officer," Elliot answers, turning his head to show Casey the large, purple and blue bruise on his jaw.

Casey grimaces. "What do you want to do?"

"Give it to him" – Elliot shrugs – "I'd rather find this kid."

"Let's do this then," Casey says, walking into the interrogation room.

Olivia watches with bated breath as Casey hands Brad a piece of paper and a pen. Moments later, Elliot bursts out of the room, paper held high in victory, and practically pulls Olivia after him.

…

* * *

…

The address, it turns out, is that of the abandoned Boyce Thompson Institute in Yonkers.

Olivia and Elliot systematically clear the basement and both upper floors, coming across nothing but feral cats, pigeons, and assorted animal feces. As Elliot finishes clearing the final room of the second floor, Olivia stands at the bottom of a ladder leading to the attic. She shines her flashlight into the small opening. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, she cautiously climbs up the ladder.

Her head clears the small opening and she looks around. The outside wall is five feet to her left; on it is an oculus allowing unfiltered sunlight to shine in and cast an almost eerie glow over the room. Standing in the center of the attic, she can see the entire room – well, almost the entire room.

Directly across from the oculus is a pen. Originally made with mesh and wood, the pen now has sheetrock walls and a locked, makeshift door. Olivia has that familiar feeling in her gut – the one that tells her _Yes, this is it! This is where you need to be._ – and she knows she doesn't have time to wait for Elliot to make his way to the attic.

Tentatively, Olivia walks toward the pen; she keeps her gun drawn just in case someone less than desirable makes an appearance. She walks carefully to the door, taking care to keep as silent as possible as to not alert the occupant of her presence. Easing open the door – the locks were almost too easy to open from the outside, but would be impossible to open from the inside – she shines her flashlight in the pen.

Sitting in the corner, is a little boy. The same little boy, in fact, from the wallet-sized picture in Olivia's pocket.

"Calvin," Olivia gasps, holstering her gun. Instead of looking at Olivia, Calvin draws his knees up closer to his chest and tries to hide in the back corner of the pen. Having seen this behavior in other victims of abuse, Olivia feels the desire to be sick, but forces it down by focusing on the little boy. "Calvin," she says again, louder this time. "I'm a police officer; I'm here to help you."

This time, Calvin looks up, the light from Olivia's flashlight makes him wince. "You are?" he asks, sounding so much younger than eight years old.

Olivia nods. "I am. Can you come out?" Calvin shakes his head. "Can I come in and get you?" Again, Calvin shakes his head. "They're never going to hurt you again, Calvin," Olivia says. "I promise."

"You got them?"

"I did."

"They're gone."

"They are."

Calvin seems to take in this information; Olivia watches him mull it over. Then, as if he has decided that it is okay to trust Olivia, he stands up on shaking legs. The first thing Olivia notices about Calvin is that he is too small and too thin for his age. He walks over to her carefully and she kneels down in front of him. "Are you okay?" she asks.

Calvin nods. "Can I see your badge?"

Olivia smiles and unclips her badge from her belt. Calvin takes it from her outstretched hands hesitantly and rolls it around in his. Finally, he clips it to his shirt and beams at her. "I want to be a cop too," he says.

Olivia stands up, picking Calvin up as she goes. He wraps his arms around her neck and settles his head on her shoulder. "You will be," she says. "I need you to hold on tight, okay?" Calvin nods and tightens his grip. Olivia is careful as she climbs down the ladder, making sure not to miss any of the rungs.

Elliot is standing on the second floor, his hand resting on the ladder. "He's good?" he asks, nodding toward Calvin.

Olivia shrugs her left shoulder. "We'll know when he gets to the hospital."

…

* * *

…

"He's malnourished," the doctor says, flipping some pages of Calvin's chart, "and dehydrated, but other than that, he's fine."

"Physically," Elliot says.

The doctor nods. "He's fine physically. Psychologically, well, that's a whole different story." Noticing Olivia isn't listening to a word he is saying, the doctor taps her shoulder and says, "You can go in there with him. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

Olivia doesn't respond, just strides away from the doctor and pushes open the door to Calvin's room. Seeing her, he sits up in his bed and smiles widely. "Hey, pal," Olivia says.

"Hi, Olivia." His smile grows even wider as he begins to tell Olivia an animated story about the action figures sitting on the table in front of him.

…

* * *

…

An hour later, Elliot and Olivia are sliding into their booth at the cop bar near the precinct. Each ordering a beer, they settle into a comfortable silence, both just going over the events of the day.

It is Elliot who speaks first. "Lila seemed to know you," he says.

Olivia takes a sip of her beer, thinking back to when she and Lila met. Suddenly, it hits her. "I responded to a domestic abuse call at her apartment back when I was still a rookie. He husband was beating her because she had a miscarriage."

"What happened?"

"My partner shot him."

"Is he dead?"

Olivia shakes her head. "Turns out he murdered the woman he was married to before Lila, serving life in Rikers."

"Justice," Elliot says.

"Justice," Olivia echoes.

Ten minutes later, Olivia gets a call from the hospital.

…

* * *

…

Olivia rushes into the hospital like a bat out of hell. "What? What's wrong? What happened to Calvin?"

The nurse rests her hand on Olivia's shoulder and flashes her a calming smile. "He's fine. He was just asking for you."

Olivia blinks rapidly, her brain finally catching up with the words the nurse is saying. "He's okay?"

"Yes."

"He was looking for me?"

"He woke up and you weren't there. We haven't been able to get him to relax. The doctor refuses to use a sedative because of his malnutrition and dehydration."

"Can I go in?"

"Yes."

Olivia nods her thanks and walks in to Calvin's room. "I heard you were looking for me."

Calvin gasps. "Olivia, where did you go?" He shakes his head. "I was scared."

Olivia pulls one of the visitor's chairs close to the bed and sits down, taking one of Calvin's hands in her own. "I'm here now."

Calvin relaxes and lies back in the bed. "Will you stay?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

"Then I will."

With that, Calvin closes his eyes and falls back to sleep almost instantly. Forty-five minutes later, Olivia does too.

.


	3. Story Time

Title: Story Time

Author's Note: These characters aren't mine. They belong to Dick Wolf and NBC.

Author's Note 2: Christmas Eve/Christmas 2011

Author's Note 3: You guys are the best! Thanks so much for your reviews. Also, if you have a prompt for this story, feel free to leave it in the comments or send it to me on Tumblr.

* * *

.

"Alright, little mites," Alex says, opening the apartment door one-handedly.

The little boy resting on her hip begins to stir. "We home?" he asks, clinging tighter to Alex.

"We are," Alex says, setting the boy on the ground. She takes off his jacket and sets it over the back of the couch. Her jacket quickly follows.

Back in the kitchen, Calvin sits at the table, half-asleep with his head on his arms. He's thirteen now and quickly becoming all gangly legs and arms. But when Alex looks at him, he's still the little eight-year-old that was too small for his age and answered Olivia's apartment door when Alex knocked on it after her release from Witness Protection.

"Can I have a little help here, Al?" Olivia asks, still attempting to get the jacket off the sleeping girl in her arms.

"Go get the book, Henry," Alex says. She smiles and unzips their daughter's jacket. "Come on, Lizzie," she says, tossing the jackets into the growing pile on the couch. She takes the sleeping four-year-old from Olivia and sets her on the couch. "Story time, Lizzie, wake up."

Henry comes running back into the living room, already dressed in his Christmas pajamas and carrying the book he's been waiting since July to read. "C'mon, Lizzie," he says, climbing on the couch. "it's 'Night 'fore Christmas' time!"

Lizzie sits up groggily. "We is home?"

Henry nods. "We is."

"Story time?"

"Yup."

Alex and Olivia watch their twins communicate, smiling wider than they ever thought possible. Olivia wraps her arm around Alex's waist, and Alex rests her head on Olivia's shoulder.

Henry runs through the living room to the kitchen, book still in his hands, and tugs on Calvin's shirt. "C'mon, Cal," he says, "Mommy said story time." Calvin stands up, following his little brother back to the living room.

Calvin sits in the middle seat of the couch – Lizzie cuddled against his left side, Henry cuddled against his right side – and opens the book. "Twas the night before Christmas…" he trails off, looking toward Alex and Olivia. Olivia gives him a smile and a slight nod and he continues reading.

…

* * *

…

"Bedtime, babies," Olivia says as Calvin closes the book.

"Don't wanna, Mama," Lizzie says, cuddling closer to Calvin. "Not sleepy."

"Not babies," Henry adds.

"You sure look sleepy," Alex says.

She's not wrong. Calvin still sits in the middle seat, but now his legs are crossed on the couch and he has a blanket pulled over his lap. Lizzie sits on his leg, her head resting on his shoulder, while Henry lies stretched out on the couch, his feet almost dangling off the edge.

"The faster we go to bed, the faster Santa gets here," Calvin says.

"Santa," the twins exclaim together. They jump up and run to their bedroom, chanting "Santa's coming" the whole time. The whole scene is so cute that Alex doesn't even bother enforcing her no-running-in-the-house rule.

"You too, Cal," Olivia says, ruffling his hair.

"I know," Calvin says. Bidding his goodnights to his moms and siblings, he heads to his room.

"Tomorrow should be interesting," Alex says. Olivia just nods.

…

* * *

…

The living room is a disaster. Balled-up wrapping paper is scattered everywhere, empty toy boxes thrown carelessly about, packages of socks and underwear are packed in the corner.

Olivia sighs happily, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Alex walks up behind her and wraps her arms around Olivia's waist. "Thank you," Olivia whispers.

"For what?" Alex asks.

"This," Olivia says, looking into the living room. Alex follows her gaze.

Calvin, Lizzie, and Henry are sitting around the coffee table, each dressed in a new set of matching pajamas. Sorry is set up in the middle of the table, and Calvin is losing badly. Olivia is sure that's because he set up the cards so there will be a tie between Henry and Lizzie.

"I love you," Alex says, placing a kiss on Olivia's cheek.

"Love you more," Olivia responds.

.


End file.
